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Divinity 11 11

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Member Since: Dec, 2003

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Angelic Unmaking
by Divinity 11 11

Thursday, February 02, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Divinity 11 11
•  Dream to Dare
•  Infinite Reflection
•  Observatory Swirlies
•  Walk Within....
•  Who's Reason?
           >> View all 63


 

Like a spoiled child in a tantrum,
You stormed off in a huff.
You knew your way was the only right,
And you set out to prove it.


In a fit of rage and rebellion true ,
You plucked your feathers one by one
From the wings upon your back,
Sneering and hissing in defiance.


Mutilated and bloodied,
You flee into the wild of the night.
Parched and enervated,
With crazed and bloodshot eyes,
You hide among the shadows.


Tormenting you as they beat against your back,
Your once majestic wings hang
In shredded, sharp and withered tatters
That rip out chunks of flesh without mercy.


Blinded by the darkness,
Your eyes fail from lack of use,
And you’re left with dried and leathery skin
As your defalcation pales you.


Dwelling in your repugnant self pity,
You become a horrid licentious beast.
In search of a healing remedy
That cools the agonizing sores,
You smear yourself with excremental defecation.



This only breeds self righteous disease


That oozes from your self inflicted wounds,
Increasing your hellish disfigurement
As the infection spreads across your living carcass.



Will you allow me to hold and teach you
How to apply the healing balm of self love?
Or will you stand and growl in shame at me,
Envious of the exalted and noble beauty in me
That once was yours but you discarded?


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Reviewed by Mark Rockeymoore 2/7/2006
i wrote a piece many moons ago called 'a balm in gilead, which reflects some of what you've written here, regarding the nephilim and the love of humanity...as above, so below, that which applies to those who ride the waves in the sky also applies to those of us relegated to the shadows and valleys of the world, but who yearn ever for a return to those worlds past the highest clouds...
Reviewed by Jeff Mason 2/3/2006
Submlime imagery; as you seem so well at imparting to us. -- Jeff
Reviewed by Peter Paton 2/2/2006
Like Icarus if we fly too near the sun, our wax wings will burn and shrivel, and we will plummet helplessly back to Earth !
Pride was the First Sin, and it shall be the Last !
Enjoyable and discerning work
Peter
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